


1926: Dark Hours

by ThatClumsyGirl



Series: Home of the Free [5]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe, Internal Conflict, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Series, doubts, mentions of discrimination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 04:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20651525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatClumsyGirl/pseuds/ThatClumsyGirl
Summary: Sometimes, you just have to live with your demons.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the comment and the kudos :-* I thought I'd finish another one of these to keep me away from spoilers until the Downton movie comes out in my country. This is set some time after "Twice Shy".  
This one feels unfinished in general, but the more I try, the worse it seems to get ...

The house is silent and empty when Thomas returns from a long and tiring double-shift. It's odd, Edward should be there at this hour. There is no message on the table, either. His thoughts stray back to a few weeks ago when he'd spent a panicked two hours searching the neighbourhood and found his equally panicked boyfriend in a field a quarter of a mile from the closest building. Edward doesn't get lost nearly as often as one would expect, but when he does, he is truly helpless until another person turns up. With the towering rain-clouds and the thunder in the distance right now, that is not the best place to be.

Thomas hurries back outside and along up the street to some higher ground that will help him see across the sparsely scattered houses of the closer area. But all he can make out is that only few people are about, doubtlessly in fear of the thunderstorm that is approaching at a steady pace from the sea. He runs back down to the houses and asks everyone he can find if they've seen Edward, but no-one recently has. Thomas wants to run in every direction at once, wants to look inside every house and behind every tree. The first heavy raindrops fall and a car stops next to him.

“You should get indoors, sir”, the gruff military policeman says.

“I'm looking for my cousin” This is a lie they tell whenever anyone asks about their relationship – that they are fairly distant cousins who met for the first time during the war. “I think he might be lost” Thomas becomes aware of how frantic and crazy he must look.

“He has probably taken shelter in a house somewhere. Go home, you won't find him now” The rain is getting heavier, clinking on the bonnet of the car, evaporating on the heated engine.

“You don't understand – he's blind. He'll never find his way back if he's lost” And it wouldn't be the first time someone falls into that river when it's carrying a lot of water …

“Hey, didn't we just see a blind man walking up the street a few minutes ago?”, the second policeman says.

“Oh yeah, he was with a Chinese woman. Tall young guy, dark hair. We noticed his sunglasses and his cane”

His boundless relief makes Thomas almost want to sit down and laugh. “Yes, that's him. Thank you, officer” They drive away and Thomas pulls his rain coat closer before he starts off in the other direction back home. He makes it onto the porch only a moment before all hell breaks loose. When he goes inside after a few seconds of breathing space and after hanging up the coat on the porch, he finds Edward just closing the kitchen cabinets.

“Thomas, thank heavens you're home. I was afraid you'd get caught in that awful weather”

“I was, just now. I was out looking for you. Where were you?” Thomas doesn't want to be angry but he can't help it. Edward has an inexplicable tendency to do things like this, put himself in unnecessary danger; the way he lived and worked in London clearly shows it.

“I'm sorry about that, I was grocery shopping. Would've been back earlier but I met Mrs. Yang and helped her carry her bags home” There's something wrong, Thomas can tell even through his anger, but he can't put his finger on what it is. “You shouldn't have gone looking for me, I was perfectly fine”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”, Thomas says louder than he intended. Why can't Edward understand how much he worries?

“Stop yelling, I'm a grown man and I can go wherever I like without your permission” He seems bewildered by the whole situation.

Suddenly, Thomas realises what's wrong: Edward didn't smile when he came in and he always does – not just usually, always – and there's a slight tremor in his voice like he's fighting back tears. Thomas' anger drains away. “I'm sorry. Of course you can … But try and see my point of view. You don't always find your way home without help and how would I know that you needed help, if I didn't know where you were”

“Can we just let it go now?”

“I only want to make sure you understand-” A peal of thunder drowns out the rest of the sentence, which would have been: “... that I'm angry because I worry”

Edward's mind makes something else of it. “Not you, too … Why don't you just lock me up again and be done with it”

“Alright, what happened? Did anyone say anything?” Everything was fine this morning, so it must've happened during the day. “Point them out, I'll give 'em a beating” Even that fails to raise the slightest hint of a smile.

“I survived the London docks, you know, I'm sure I can handle this place”, Edward grumbles.

“That's different” The main difference being that he didn't have anyone to stop him then from going to such terrifying places on his own.

“How? London was certainly more dangerous, you can't tell me otherwise”

“Yes, but you knew London all your life. Knew its ways and its tricks. You've only been here for six months and …” … you've never even seen the place, Thomas stops himself from saying. It probably won't help to rub it in. Besides, it has nothing to do with that. Being outside in a tropical storm and wandering the docks are dangerous to everyone.

“Since when do you decide what I can and can't do? Why should anyone decide but me?” Edward tries to sound composed but he is genuinely hurt.

“You're trying to misunderstand me, aren't you?” Thomas can see them steering towards some sort of disaster if he doesn't turn this conversation around. “I just want you safe, that's all. I wouldn't dream of trying to tell you what you can't do. It's the thought that you could get hurt that concerns me”

Edward understands and relaxes a bit. “And I want … I _need_ some sort of freedom, or else I'll go mad”

“You absolutely do. You have every freedom you require. In return, just give me the freedom to worry about you” Thomas would really like to embrace him and kiss him now but something is telling him to keep his distance for the moment, some sort of electric tension surrounding Edward.

“Alright. Actually, I love how protective you are. It's just, today …” He sighs deeply and leans back against the kitchen cupboard. “It's one of those days. I wish I'd stayed in bed”

“That bad, hm? Want to tell me about it?” Thomas makes himself comfortable against the wall opposite, from where he has a good view of all the windows on the weather side. The storm is still raging on outside and after the last flood in the living room, he can't be too careful.

“I probably should. If you're not too tired to listen …” Edward hesitates for a minute, ordering his thoughts. “I did something fairly stupid a little while ago … You remember that letter from Florence, the one that said Jack was getting married? I wrote to him, to congratulate him”

“Why on earth would you do that?” Write to his brother and stir everything up again, what an idea!

“I don't know. Being sentimental, probably. I thought, now that we're both happy, we might … well, we won't ever become friends again, but we might get to a point where we can exchange anything other than insults” The look on his face is enough to tell how that went.

“Let me guess: Jack doesn't quite see it like that?” On second thoughts, Thomas understands his motives. Edward wants to maintain some kind of relationship with his family and his origins, like most people do. What he doesn't understand, given their family history, is why this rejection upsets him so much. He isn't just in a bad mood, this is something much deeper.

“His answer was so rude, poor Hattie would've needed a strong drink after she read it, if they had strong drinks in this place”

“You let Hattie read it? That's so risky, you know that, don't you?” Thomas isn't at all irritated that someone else wrote that letter to Jack, after all Edward has the right to keep some things private even from him and is careful enough to choose his “writers” and “readers” wisely. But not this time; letting the mail lady, who is a lovely woman but a terrible gossip, see something that might give away the nature of their relationship is borderline reckless. Even more so when you factor in that said mail lady has a huge crush on Edward.

He looks quite caught out, too, like he is absolutely aware of what he's done, for once. “I know, but what reason could I possibly give to stop her? She wrote the one I sent to Jack, after all, she knew I was waiting for his answer. And she especially changed her delivery route so she could come here last, have a cup of tea and read it to me. It would've been unkind to just send her away. And I knew Jack wouldn't use the actual words. I told her our falling out had something to do with a woman”

“So, what did Jack have to say, then?”

“The usual. How my life choices brought shame on the family, that I wasn't his brother anymore and that he wouldn't apologize for anything ever” Edward has pulled the letter from his pocket and folds and unfolds it at regular intervals.

“Do you want him to apologize?” Thomas doesn't know much about the younger Courtenay, except that he is intolerant and matches Edward in stubbornness.

“No. And I won't, either … The whole situation is as much my fault as his. The truth is, I'd have given Jack the estate if he'd asked nicely and I could have lived on an allowance wherever I chose. But he behaved like an entitled self-righteous prick and once we were locked in that fight neither of us could back down. I'd thought I was a bigger man than that, but I failed and lost my brother along with everything else … I got past it over time, but apparently he hasn't”

“I'm sorry to hear it, but you probably knew he'd think so”

“No, I did, I expected this. Hoping for something else, maybe … But then he wrote that I pulled everyone down with me, especially Florence, and that I should never contact her again. How I should stop expecting people to arrange their lives around me … I think he might have a point there” He gives the paper he can't see a disgusted look and throws it into the sink.

“What? No – just ignore him, he's an idiot” Thomas tries to fight his own curiosity as to the actual contents of the letter. He won't go over there, pick it up and read it, not unless Edward wants him to.

“The thing is, it's not just him. I know a lot of people think so and a lot of people do make allowances for me. And they're right to think it's not fair because it isn't … There was a woman in the shop earlier who pretty much said the exact same thing as Jack” His voice wavers on the brink of choking up.

“What woman?” Thomas would like to know so he can go over and give her a piece of his mind right now, storm or no storm.

“I don't know. She sounded familiar, lives around here somewhere. She probably didn't know how well I speak Portuguese. It doesn't matter who she is”

“Yes, it does. Of course it does. You should always know exactly who and where your enemies are. Anyway, that's not what we're talking about now …”

Edward falls silent again, his inner struggle obvious in every line and angle of his body. There is something he wants to get off his mind, he just has to dredge up the courage to say it. Eventually, he does, in that hushed tone of his. “I feel like I should apologize all the time. You know, for _existing_”

“No, don't do that” Thomas knows how it feels to think like that and how hard it is to get it out of your head again. “You risked your life in the war and you brought back an injury. Why the hell should you apologize for that? And you never demand anyone's help or consideration, in fact you're always grateful to get it and still a little surprised every time, even after all those years. If anything, the rest of us should thank you for existing”

“Don't say that”, Edward mumbles and turns away like he wants to hide within himself. “I feel so guilty for being happy with you … What on earth was I thinking, dragging you to the other end of the world? I was being selfish and I apologize”

“Oh no, Edward. You know it's not like that. I was glad to be dragged” And where would they be now, if he hadn't?

“I know. But still, what right did I have to turn your life upside down? I knew you'd come with me, if only to watch out for me”

Thomas wonders if this has been going through his head all the time, silent reproach for taking a chance in life when he deemed himself undeserving of any luck. “You had every right and I'm grateful you did it. I was unhappy, you gave me the opportunity to do something about that. And it worked out, didn't it? … What exactly did that woman say that upset you so much?”

Edward seems to gather his strength for a moment. “She said … how terrible a life it must be. To … to need looking after all the time. Said, she couldn't do it. Either side of it. She wouldn't lay such a burden on anyone she loved, she'd rather take her own life … You know, I've … I've felt like that more often than I care to admit. Better off dead”

Thomas feels like his heart stops. “Don't you dare”, he chokes and grabs him by the shoulders.

He can watch Edward realise what he's just said. “No, of course not” He wraps his arms around Thomas and it feels as solid as always. “I wouldn't do it without you and leave you alone again”, he whispers, followed by a kiss that delays the impact of his words.

“Darling, are we making a suicide-pact just now?” It is an idea Thomas doesn't dare dwell on.

“No … Maybe … I don't know” Edward takes a deep shuddering breath. “I can't bear to be a burden, least of all to you when your life has been … When you deserve every bit of happiness you can get. I'd hate to be the one to hold you back”

“You're not a _burden_. Edward, how could you ever think that? You're astonishing, truly. People are jealous, that's why they talk like that. I'd like to see any of them try to achieve the kind of life you're leading considering the circumstances” It breaks Thomas' heart to see him so devoid of his usual optimism and spirit.

“I can only lead this live by the courtesy of others. I should be grateful to get it, too, not indignant and angry when I don't”

“Damn right you should be indignant. Isn't that what saved you from becoming a burden – the wish to prove these people wrong?” It feels strange to be telling him this when he is usually the one to say these things. But even the strongest people doubt themselves sometimes, don't they? “And you're not holding me back, on the contrary, you encourage me”

“But I … I depend on others … I'll never be able to do it on my own” Edward pulls away, fingers tensely clutching the edges of his sleeves.

“So what? We all depend on others. We depend on our employers to give us paid work, we depend on farms to feed us, those housewives depend on their husbands to provide for them and … Doesn't everyone depend on the acceptance and goodwill of others, every day, all the time? How is that different from the way you live? Because if you are one, then we're all burdens unto each other, every single person in every part of society”

“You do have a point. But perhaps you only think so because you love me – for reasons I can't quite grasp … And I love you with everything I've got but I can't help feeling, sometimes, that there is an element of dishonesty in it and that I am taking advantage of your affection. I need you, or I'd never be able to get through life. And you on the other hand would be fine without me”

“Fine? You just said you know what my life's been like. How was I ever anywhere near _fine_ without you? I need you just as desperately and I love you just as fiercely. You could never take advantage of that and you're not surrendering your independence by accepting my help now and then. I think, you're confusing needing me with using me” He can talk as much as he likes, Thomas realises, nothing is going to break through the wall of self-doubt, not tonight. “My darling, where is your confidence?” All that earlier talk about wanting freedom and his anger at not being taken seriously – which is definitely how Edward usually feels – seems like something he said to convince himself, to pretend everything is normal.

“I don't know. Good to hear you still have it, though” There's nothing more to be said about it, apparently. “Were you really out in that terrible rain? Aren't you cold now?” Edward laces their fingers together and leans into him again.

“To be honest, I'm pretty cold, I just didn't notice” It's not even a lie and it's the perfect excuse to let Edward tend to him and feel needed.

“Sit down, then. I'll make some tea” He tries to slip back into the shoes of his usual self but his hands are still shaking and his movements are searching like he has forgotten where everything is. Any second now, he'll probably break a tea-cup.

Thomas bites his teeth and stays where he is. If he gets up and helps him now, Edward is going to feel utterly useless. So he waits, gives him the time to find his way back. Of course Edward knows that he is doing this on purpose; there is an understanding between them quite independent of words. Eventually, they sit on the couch together, nothing is broken, and Edward spreads a blanket across both of them. So they stay, listening to the roar of the rain on the roof, imagine how it will wash out the street and beat down on the trees until the clouds are spent and fade into the pale colours of a new morning, not untouched but restored.


	2. Chapter 2

_ There must be hundreds of people there; their faces fade in and out of focus – his father, his sister, people he's worked for and with … All staring, all pointing, accusing. He looks for the one person that matters, but he can't see him, tries to turn around but he can't move. Voices float about like a great big swarm of angry bees ready to attack. 'Don't fight, it'll only make it worse', his mother's voice says in his head. Something is happening here, something important, but he can't … but he has to. Knows his life is on the line, right here, right now. “Do you have anything to say in your defence?”, a voice booms out of the blur. Defence. Only make it worse. 'Please, it's not my fault, I've been trying to be a better person, please forgive me, God, Father' He is silent. The voices talk to each other in a shrieking whisper, hands pull at him, take him away to his future. A dark cell, alone, forever, he'll be … with his father. One strong hand holding his arms behind his back, the other pushing his head down, inches above the oily grey water of the canal, a dead rat floats past. “Do you understand what you've done? Do you?” “Yes, Father” I fell in love. For the first time. The boy's lips were so soft when they touched mine. His hands – the water gushes about his ears, black before his eyes. Don't breathe. Breathe. “I should've drowned you the moment you were born, you wicked creature” A woman's heels click on the cobbles, right on past. It could be his mother, except she's dead, has been for a long time. “Will you be a good boy now?” “Yes, Father”… They take him away, that's when he sees him, sitting next to a porcelain-doll-woman, a wedding ring on his finger, gleaming mockingly in the dim light, above it, a face that will never smile again. The doors close one last time, a scream is the only thing that sounds in the dark and a name - _

“Thomas – Thomas, wake up. Oh, please …”

He takes a gasping breath, it feels like the first real breath of his life. A dream. “Edward”, he chokes.

“Hey, there you are” Gentle arms close around him, hands stroke his hair and his back. “You had a bad dream, my dearest. But you're fine, you're in Hawaii. This is real”

“Real …?”

Edward places kisses along his forehead and a tingling sensation, like the blood flows back into his limbs, spreads from there. “Yes. Honolulu, our own house. That's where you are. Safe”

Thomas tries to breathe evenly, but all he can manage are uncontrolled sobs. He is really here, this is where he belongs and no-one is going to rip him from Edward's embrace and lock him up in a dark cell – he keeps telling himself – _Will you be a good boy now? –_ it's all fine – _It'll only make it worse_ – But who knows, it might happen, today, tomorrow; it's where he's been going all his life – _Will you be a good boy_ – he might lose Edward, might lose everything – “Shh, darling, don't be afraid_, _it's alright, it's over” – how can they dare to live like this when in all probability it'll land them in that desolate place? This – Edward's calm voice soothing him, his arms tucking him in securely – is the key to his downfall. _Their _downfall; he can't take Edward with him. Needing more willpower than strength, he frees himself and nearly falls out of bed trying to get up.

“Thomas, what is it? How can I help?”

He makes it to the living-room, breathing hard, gets the room between himself and Edward who follows more slowly.

“Won't you talk to me?” Edward is standing in the doorway, the bed-sheet draped around him, a more than concerned look on his face. 

“I'm sorry” Thomas doesn't even know what exactly he's apologizing for but it helps him regain his composure. That's when he realises he himself is stark naked – not that he can feel it, mind you, all he can feel is empty and afraid. A clock strikes somewhere and he counts the hours.

“No, don't. Don't lock it up, that won't do you any good”

“Go to bed, it's three in the morning” He is surprised by the raw sound of his own voice.

“Like Hell I will”, Edward mumbles. Stubborn. “I'll just … I'll be right here, when you're ready”

The sight of him worried and rumpled and tired touches Thomas' heart like a finger breaking through ice, pokes at it painfully, and he has to turn away. He needs to think, needs to look at the situation from all angles and he can't do that with Edward standing there looking adorable and keeping him from making an informed decision. The floor creaks behind him and a second later the blanket from the couch is carefully laid across his shoulders. When he turns around, Edward has already resumed his position in the doorway. No, he can't think like this.

“Really, you don't need to fret. It was just a nightmare”, he says, willing his voice somehow to come out without wavering.

“What was it about? The war?”

“No, it's not that” It would've been the easiest lie, he realises, and gotten him out of this situation.

Edward hesitates for a few seconds, bites his lip. “You know, you screamed for five minutes straight, I couldn't wake you up … I can't make you talk about it, I just think you should, to get it out of your head”

“It was a memory, that's all … I'll be outside for a moment” Once he gets there, he curses his hands for shaking so much; he can hardly light a cigarette. He sits behind the hibiscus bush, a convenient blind spot that can only be seen once you stand on the second step leading to the porch. Here, they can hang on to the illusion of being a normal couple, allowed to show themselves outdoors. They have put up a little fence, so every visitor has to use the noisy gravel-path to get to the steps. There's still an undeniable element of danger in it, one of those Edward-like risks.

And that's just the point. The danger is so real and so close always hanging over their heads like the much referenced sword. One wrong word, one careless touch, one thing that'll make it too obvious for the neighbours to ignore … Everything will be lost. Worse than that; their lives will be made harder than they've ever been. Edward might have been able to get away with it at some point, back in England when he was still on good terms with his upper-class family, but he'll be treated like everyone else here and now. Years of prison and hard labour, that's what's in store for them, if they ever get found out. Thomas can't do it, he can't see himself surviving that and picking himself up afterwards to lead a “normal” life. Neither can he see Edward get through it, living in a cage for so long. So, wouldn't it be better to live apart, but in safety? It certainly would.

Before the pain in his heart can confuse his head, Thomas gets up and goes back inside. Edward is standing by the stove, rummaging about with something. He has haphazardly pulled on some clothes, not all of them his own. It makes Thomas smile involuntarily. He'll have to get this over with, now.

“What're you doing?”, he asks, just to start a conversation. He's been outside longer than he'd intended, a look at the clock shows him that.

“Making some tea to help us go back to sleep” Edward turns around with two filled cups in his hands and finds his way to the table. Automatically, Thomas checks if he's remembered to switch off the stove.

“We need to talk” There, Thomas has said it, started the avalanche.

“I'm glad you want to, after all”

“No, not about that” He tries a sip of tea to occupy his hands but it's too hot. He'll have to go on now; stares at the even surface in the cup, mirroring the ceiling-light. “We can't continue with this” 

“What exactly?”, Edward asks innocently but Thomas can see him tense up, even from the corner of his eye.

“This relationship. I can't do it anymore” He can't breathe, lights are dancing in front of his eyes and the pain, bloody Hell, the pain is unbearable, but he gains a hold over it, closes his heart around it to entomb it in ice, like he's done so often before.

“Why?” There is so much emotion in that one word, all the ice in the world couldn't withstand it.

“I've just … I've changed … my mind” He risks a glance at Edward's hands on the table, knotted together to stop the shaking.

“Don't lie to me, Thomas. Not about this”

It becomes impossible to control the pain. “It's too dangerous, alright? Someone will find out and they'll lock us up”, he blurts out, still staring into his tea.

“So, we'll be careful. We're not complete beginners, are we? Don't do this, please” Edward grasps his wrist and Thomas can feel his own determination start to drain away.

He weakly tries to hold on to the last bit of it. “I'm only trying to protect you” 

“By breaking both our hearts … For what? Fear? You're always so brave, be brave now”

“I'm trying” He loves Edward, more than he's ever loved anyone, but the dark chasm of fear in his head swallows everything. All the beautiful moments together, every touch, every kiss, every laugh and smile they share, are tinted with this dread – it could all be over any second, something bad will undoubtedly happen, it will be worse than ever before. He can't be the reason Edward suffers like that. But isn't he, either way? They'll both suffer a great deal, no matter what they do. The decision looks simple but is far from it: take the risk now and be happy as long as it lasts or don't take the risk and be unhappy forever. “Aren't you afraid?”, Thomas asks at length.

“Not like that, no. I'm mindful of what I do and say outside of this house but that's it. The condition of my eyesight is the perfect excuse for us to live like we do, no-one can prove otherwise as long as we behave ourselves, and we're pretty good at that. Who'd have thought anything good could ever come of being blind … I'm not telling you not to be afraid. By all means, be afraid enough to stay on your guard, but try not to be terrified” Edward's voice is calm but there is a tremble in his hand still resting on Thomas' arm that betrays him.

“I'm trying”, Thomas repeats, whispers. He so wishes he could just push his anxiety aside now, pull Edward into his arms and everything would be fine. He can't. In fact, if he loved Edward any less, he'd give in to his instinct and withdraw by any means possible, become aloof and surly to get as much distance between them as close living-quarters permitted. It takes a lot of willpower to stay here, his heart still exposed and the warm fingers on his arm keeping him from getting his defences back up. A guilty part of his brain also tells him that if Edward puts up with this, he absolutely doesn't deserve the cold shoulder. “I'm sorry”

“Don't be. You don't need to apologize for having emotions” His touch is like a bridge, the only connection between them, because Thomas still can't look at him.

“We're not breaking it off” Thomas suddenly needs to make that clear. He isn't sure if this is the best or the strongest decision, just knows that the alternative is guaranteed to cause misery. “We're not sacrificing this for … a bit of a crisis”

“That's good news” There is a smile in Edward's voice and Thomas looks at him for a moment. The impulse to kiss him and hold him close flares up but is overshadowed again. “It's alright to have a crisis now and then”

“Maybe we should try and go back to sleep now”, Thomas says just to say something. They drink their tea in silence and go to bed, Thomas puts on some clothes on the way there, hoping that he might feel better if he is less naked. But when they lay in the dark, neither of them can settle down like they usually do.

“I should sleep in the other room tonight”, Edward suggests after the third time he's accidentally touched Thomas and Thomas has flinched away. 

Before his head can form words or thoughts, Thomas has grabbed his arm to keep him right where he is. “Please, stay with me” To be alone right now would be the worst, though he can't even really say why.

“I will, if that's what you want” Edward holds his hand; like before, it is the only link from one to the other. After an indeterminable while of silence, he whispers: “I keep worrying that you _will _change your mind about this … Sometimes, I remember what you told me in London. You know, about the conversion therapy or whatever they may call it. I'm afraid that one day you'll wake up and decide to give that another try. I'm twice as afraid as I would be, because I know what you're capable of putting yourself through, that you might inadvertently kill yourself”

“That won't happen. I'd lost all hope of finding love or even a friend, that's why I did that. I was wrong, I know that now” A shudder makes its way through his body and he suppresses the memories about that time. He could possibly have died trying. It's a miracle that the only long-term consequence are frequent headaches and a few nightmares.

“Promise you'll tell me if it ever crosses your mind again”

“I promise” He sighs, getting annoyed with the noise in his head and his own problems. “How much easier would life be, if we were like other men”

“But we're not … Are you ashamed of this, of us?”

“No, of course not. But it's hard to get my head around sometimes. How am I supposed to be confident about loving you when it could land me in prison? When it could land _you_ in prison, too. It makes life so much harder and at the same time, you make me the happiest man on earth” Thomas is glad of the dark, it helps him admit these things more freely.

“And you can't accept that, can you? Happiness, I mean. Do you know why that is?”

“It sounds like you're going to tell me”

“Actually, that was a serious question. Do you know? … I have my theories, but no real answer”

It takes Thomas a few minutes to order his thoughts, find a pattern underneath the memories that threaten to bury him. “I'm afraid the moment I actually start to believe it and rest on it, it'll be taken away. All my life I reached out and reached out, hoping that I'd find some place to rest, but I never really did, never could stop, until now. At the same time, I pushed people away, for fear that they might see my faults. I still tend to do that”

“But the more you push people away, the less they can forgive you the faults they see in you. I know it's easy to say from a perspective outside of your head …”

A part of Thomas knows he is right, but he can't change his stripes so easily. “It's also hard to believe coming from someone who is as biased about me as you are”

“True, I can't find any fault in you. Everything I do notice, I find not to be your fault at all”

Thomas doesn't know what to say to that, it paralyses his brain for a moment until he decides to just move on. “As far back as I remember, I've always been made to believe that I wasn't good enough and didn't deserve good things. There's a constant battle between that and hope” He liked to think of himself as ambitious but in reality, he was always just afraid that if he stopped moving forward, and looked at his life with any satisfaction, it would catch up with him. And that's exactly what happened at Downton where he was booted out just as he had finally admitted to himself that he'd found a place to call home.

“For your own sake and mine, I put faith in hope … Was it your father who made you think this?”

“Him and some other people, yes. After my mother died, it became much worse. I believe he blamed me for her death” Some people might argue that his father had a hard time dealing with his sorrow and that made him more cruel, but Thomas doubts he had enough love in his heart to even feel sorrow.

“But that had nothing to do with you, had it? Didn't she die in childbirth?”

“She did, when my little sister Agnes was born – two months too early. Father said it was because I kept giving her grief with my sins… In reality, it was him that was giving her grief, day and night” He remembers Mr. Barrow in his black clothes towering above his nine-year-old self, framed by the glow of the fire, looking like Death himself. _Now look what you've done, this is what happens if you're sinful_, pulling Thomas by the collar, up to his mother's bed to see her white and lifeless under the bloody sheet, her pale blue eyes empty like glass marbles, _this is what happens_.

“Your sins? You were a child, for heaven's sake. Oh, I want to hit him really hard”

“That wouldn't help … I could never do anything right. It didn't make me angry or anything, just tired, listless. He used to … punish me, but always took care that people wouldn't notice it. Except that one time, when I was twelve, he pushed my head down into the canal, right behind our house where everyone could see”

“Why … What had you done?” Edward is plain horrified.

“Kissed a boy. And one of my brothers must've seen it, that's the only way how he could have found out … Hell, I didn't know I really liked boys until that afternoon but it was like he'd always known. My mother knew it, too, as far as I could gather, and she'd died three years earlier … Anyway. From the way he punished me, I could see that this was the worst thing I'd ever done, in his eyes and in the eyes of society, and he wanted the world to know that he'd tried to do something about it” Thomas feels the numb weariness again that was his companion for so many years.

“Did you ever see that boy again?”

“One time, only to push him away because I was afraid … of my father, of myself, of doing something wrong. So, there you have it. Story of my life”

“I'm so sorry and so mad at the same time. He destroyed your life” Edward strengthens his grip on Thomas' hand but makes no other move to get closer, waiting for him to take the first step.

“He certainly laid the foundations. But it's no use to be mad now … All I can do now is hold on to hope” However small it may be in some moments and however much he doubts and fears.

“As long as you do”

“I do” Thomas dares move closer, making not only their hands but their whole arms touch. His head comes up with an actual thought outside of itself. “How do _you_ cope with it all? How can you be confident about this when it's so dangerous?”

“Well, call it arrogance or foolhardiness if you want, but I believe they're in the wrong. The law, the church, our families, all the people who call this a sickness – they're wrong. And we are right to love each other and be happy. Every day I'm allowed to spend with you makes me believe it more”

Thomas can't think of an adequate answer to that, so he just turns and shifts until he can rest his head on Edward's chest and give his boyfriend enough room to put an arm around him. He can't ease into it like he usually would, but it's a start.

They stay like this, slipping in and out of sleep until the alarm-clock by the bed rings at six. Edward turns it off, still keeping a hold of Thomas.

“I should get up or I'll be running late”, Thomas says five minutes later, without really meaning it. He still feels naked and raw and like his limbs are made of cement; the act of opening his eyes is as hard as moving the world.

“You're not going anywhere like this. You're not leaving my side”

“I've got to go to work” He can hear how feeble it sounds although he's put all his strength into it.

“Are you sure about that?”

“No. I can't even move … But I can't lose this job. I like this job and we need it” However bad he feels, he can't risk it, so much depends on it.

“I'll go down to the shop and telephone the hotel. I'll tell them you're ill. I'll even get the doctor in to write you off for the day, if I have to” Edward slips out of their embrace and gets up to gather his proper clothes.

Thomas feels cold the moment he is left alone, like his connection to life is gone. “What are you going to tell them? What reason will you give?” He can't possibly tell them the truth, they both know that.

“Food poisoning. Everyone can relate to that; everyone will believe it” He kisses Thomas' forehead and softly caresses his shoulder. “Stay right here, I'll be back soon”

Thomas tries to pull himself together while he's gone but he can't seem to. His head is empty, full of featureless shapes and images and a blanket of lead covers his mind and his body. He doesn't see the tropical painting on the wall, doesn't feel the cool morning breeze. Only when Edward comes back, what could be minutes or hours or days later, do his senses return.

Thomas can hear him move about in the other room, tidy up some dishes and crumple some paper. That sound is a surprisingly huge relief. If Edward has thrown the newspaper away, Thomas won't have to see the headline again that sneaked up to him and wielded unforeseen powers in the night: _Two Honolulu men on trial for sodomy. Harsh verdict expected._


End file.
